The Parselmouth
by Dark-Eyed-Junco
Summary: A lonely 11-year-old girl gets a visit from a snake-and it can talk. After that, more strangeness starts, including a letter to attend a magical school she's never heard of.


CHAPTER ONE

An Unusual Conversation

In a shaded garden in a boring suburban neighborhood, a girl with thick purple glasses read a book about terns. The book, published by an author no one ever heard of, was fifty years old, published by some American bird society. She had no strong opinions about terns one way or the other; the act of reading itself was what she really enjoyed. In fact, as a child, she'd discovered she could read just about anything, even the photocopied political tracts the local workers' party gave to shoppers at the entrance to the town grocery, or the poorly-written and worse-drawn comics she could buy for a dollar in the book store discount bin. The written word had something to say, but it did not talk back-not like people did-and it kept to its prescriptions: one could could pick them up or put them down as wished, and no further engagement was required.

But on this specific Tuesday, nearing two p.m., she would find someone with whom she would enjoy a conversation.

"Hello!" came a thin, small voice. "Hello, there! What are you doing, if I may ask?"

The girl, whose name was Joan, had been reading out loud, though only under her breath, but apparently she'd been detected by some passerby. At the sound of the reedy little voice, she perked up and scanned the garden.

"Down here!" said the voice. "Near your shoe!"

Joan looked. A sleek garter snake lay loosely coiled next to her foot. It peered at her with glossy, black eyes.

"Oh," Joan said, not knowing what else to say.

"Sorry to bother you," said the snake, "but I was wondering, what're you doing?"

Joan answered, perhaps just out of mere habitual politeness, "I'm reading a book about terns."

"What's a tern?" asked the snake, as it raised its small head a few inches off the grass to better inspect the book.

"It's a kind of waterfowl," Joan said. She adjusted her glasses, as if that might help her vision, but the snake did not transition into something more logical after she did so.

"Sorry," she said, as diplomatically as she could, "but I'm old enough to know that snakes generally don't talk. So I'm still deciding if you're real or not."

"The feeling is somewhat mutual," said the snake. "I was surprised to hear you speaking so coherently as I went by. Usually, human beings don't make much sense to me when they speak."

 _I can agree with you there_ , thought Joan.

"May I see your book?" the snake asked, as if it might hold the answer.

Joan showed the book to the snake, opened to page fifty-five and fifty-six. The snake diligently scanned each leaf, but after several moments only said, "Looks like nothing special to me."

"It's written in English," Joan said, "if that helps you."

"Hmmmm," said the snake vaguely. Then it said abruptly, "Well, I've got to be off-I need to hunt." And without a more proper good-bye, it dashed off into the grass and quickly vanished amidst the flora of the garden.

When the shock wore off, Joan got up and looked for the garter snake, but it had already slipped away. She didn't want to risk yelling for it, in case a neighbor heard her shouting.

"Crazy," Joan said eventually. "I'm just crazy." But she wasn't sure if an insane person would know that they were crazy. Still, there didn't seem to be too many options.

After the encounter with the talking snake, her book no longer fascinated her. Joan tried to talk to a beetle which sat on a nearby chrysanthemum, but it only waved its antennae. Starting a conversation with a sparrow in the eaves of the house overlooking the garden resulted similarly.

Defeated and confused, Joan trudged into the house. Her mum worked for the bank, and wouldn't be home until nearly six o'clock. Even so, when Mum did return, Joan knew she wouldn't be able to talk about what had just happened.

Still pondering the strange interaction she'd had outside, Joan made herself a sandwich and drank the rest of the juice in the refrigerator. Then she sat on the couch to finish her book, with little success. Eventually she heard her mother enter through the kitchen.

"I'll be happy when school starts again," her mum said as she dropped a few bags of groceries on the kitchen table. From the kitchen, Mum had a good view of Joan staring faintly into her book. "You should be getting to know other girls your own age, not sitting by yourself."

Joan closed her book. "You should be happy I actually read," she said, though she didn't feel the energy to face her mother as she spoke. "Most people my age don't read, you know." At least, they always treated her like some sort of genius-or some sort of weird person-for reading more than whatever school assigned to them, if even that.

"Well, you're going to have to talk to people eventually," her mum said pointedly. "Try joining the real world some time."

At this, Joan was prompted to say, "Actually, I did talk to someone today."

Her mum stopped putting away the groceries. "Who?" she said.

"I … didn't ask what his name was." It hadn't occurred to her to do so.

"Is he a boy in the neighborhood?" Her mum's expression immediately softened at the implication of a potential companion.

"I don't know." Joan got up and went to her room before the conversation could turn to more problematic questions. Without removing her shoes, she plopped down face-first into her bed. Her mum's curse and muttering at her rudeness was audible from the kitchen, but fortunately, she didn't follow Joan to harass her any further.

In a way, though, her mum was right. Joan would have rather talked to the snake again rather than read some book.

On Wednesday, after Mum drove to work, Joan once more took her place in the garden. Just as before, she read aloud to herself in the same low tone of voice that had first attracted the snake. The book was different this time-she'd eventually finished the previous one last night, out of sheer boredom-and now she'd moved on to reading a ridiculous story about urban vampires. But for the purpose of hanging around in the garden hoping to attract the snake's attention, she assumed it was as good as anything else.

After nearly a hundred pages, the little voice called out, "Hello! Are you reading again?"

Joan almost dropped the book. The snake undulated through the grass until it passed into her shadow and peered upwards at her with its beady eyes.

Joan said, as coolly as she could, "Oh, hello. Back again, are you?"

"I am! This area is rich with all kinds of insects and the sunlight is good around this time of day."

"That's nice," Joan said quickly. "Anyway, what's your name? I sort of told my mum about you but I didn't know what to call you."

"Er-name?" The snake flicked its tongue almost thoughtfully, though Joan supposed it was just habitually tasting the air. "I don't know if I have one. I'm not exactly sure I what you're referring to, actually."

"What do other snakes call you?" Joan tried. "You know, so that you know they're talking to you?"

"I just sort of know when they're addressing me, I suppose," said the snake. "Each snake has its own unique snakiness, I would say, that we give off to each other. Besides, we really communicate to each other through nonverbal means, not with words. I suspect that's why most snakes have a hard time understanding humans."

"Oh," said Joan. She pulled at the grass under her fingers. "Well, do you mind if, uhm, if I give you a name then?"

"I suppose," the snake said, in a neutral, almost uninterested sort of way.

"I'll think of a good name that fits you," Joan said. "I have a book of names somewhere in my room."

"All right," said the snake. "I don't know what good it will do, but I'll trust your judgement. Am I correct in assuming you have one of these names, too?"

"My name is Joan." She paused as the little head tilted slightly.

"I don't get it," said the snake finally. "Sounds funny."

"A name's more than just a sound," Joan said. "I mean, it's supposed to define you. You know, to other people."

"If you say so," said the snake. "Well, it was nice talking with you again, but I must be off. I need to get a bite or two or three."

"You need to go so soon?" Joan said.

"If you don't mind," said the snake.

"Oh. Well…" Joan looked down. "Will you come back once you're done eating?"

"Not sure. I've got to move about, check in on things, see what's changed in my territory and what's still the same. And I've got to lay in the sun and digest my meal, of course."

"Oh, of course," Joan said. "Well, don't be a stranger, all right? It's summer now and I've got loads of free time."

"All right," said the snake. "I'll drop by tomorrow, then. Have a good day, er, Joan." And off it went.

 _If I am really crazy_ , Joan thought to herself, when she was sure it was far gone, "then my hallucination just left because he has better things to do than talk to me."

Though she waited all day Thursday for their next meeting, the garter snake failed to show. Neither did it visit on Friday. The weekend was the same. When Monday afternoon came and went, Joan began to fear it was gone forever.

She'd even selected a name for the snake from her book like she'd promised, after diligently researching and cross-checking her selections through several etymological dictionaries. Now the name and its accompanying notes lay unused in her journal. Joan starting to feel embarrassed, refused to look at it as the days began to stack up and the snake continued its absence. Perhaps the whole thing had been a sad conceit, a delusion brought on by lack of a proper social life, and she now had mercifully gotten her mind back.

Or maybe the snake had been picked up by a predator, or run over by a car. Maybe, if she scoured the neighborhood, she would find it, a half-eaten or flattened carcass.

She wasn't sure which possibility she preferred.

Whatever had occurred, Joan continued to spend the rest of June outside at various locations in the garden, reading listlessly and occasionally sketching. Sometimes she refused to leave until rain forced her inside.

For whatever reason, the little garter snake never came back.


End file.
